Blue
by Ethernaut
Summary: Alex remembers Yuris. Oneshot. Angsty. Spoilers for the final episode.


_Last Exile fanfic, the second... Not mine, kinda angsty, etc.

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Alex could remember, dimly, a time when he smiled freely. Looking back at who he had been, it seemed like he was observing another man. Only the pain associated with the memories reminds him that he was the one who said those things, who was young and in love. It wouldn't hurt so much, if it were really another man's life he was looking at.

-

A clear blue sky, the wind all around them as they flew. Alex and Yuris, twenty years old, invincible. No-one ever believed that something would go wrong, really, did they? Alex hadn't; Yuris hadn't. There was always a belief that everything would come together in the end: they were going to get married, and live together, and die of old age. They had joked that a heroic death might do, in a pinch, if growing old together was too much to ask. They thought they could take on the world.

It occured to him that George and Hamilcal were more realistic. They were older, more experienced, had known death and known pain. They had entertained the thought that they might not return. Alex had not known it then, but felt it sharply in hindsight: the way they had hugged their children tightly, the way Hamilcal had held on to his wife and looked at her as though it was _one last time_. Alex and Yuris had not even talked of the possibility. It had been there in their eyes, a silent exchange of fears, but even then it had been followed by a silent yet emphatic dismissal. Not them. They were only twenty; how could they die so young?

_Everything is going to be alright_, Yuris' eyes had told him, reflecting the blue of the sky. They would cross the Grand Stream, and the war would end. They would be heroes. They were invincible, after all.

-

When Yuris had died, the sky had not been blue. Perhaps it had been blue over Norkia, but they had been far from home, beyond the sky, in a cold world of grey and white. The winds had torn at them, and everything had been obscured by cloud which pressed in on all sides, almost a solid entity, forever threatening them; and then there had really been something solid, barely seen until it was too late. The woman who had stood atop the curve of that monstrous bulk had been beautiful, and cold, and smiling; she had smiled as George and Hamilcal had been ripped from the sky, had laughed with quiet delight as _something_ barely seen smashed into the vanship Alex and Yuris flew, sent them tumbling over and over through the violent airstreams. Had laughed as though it was all a beautiful show, when Alex had turned to see Yuris tumbling in free-fall, hair blowing loose, and felt his heart stop beating for what felt like an eternity. He wasn't convinced it had ever really started again. Something mechanical had taken over, imitating its job.

He should not have lived on. That had been beyond cruel, some kind of twisted joke.

-

Now, Alex's lips had almost forgotten how to express joy, and if they should occasionally curve it would be with cold amusement, more of a smirk than a smile; and it would not reach his eyes. He had felt half-dead for so long, with just that one last thing to cling to: revenge. Delphine.

Delphine, who lay crumpled at his feet, surrounded by rose petals. Delphine, who had let her guard down for one second too long, who had allowed him an opening, who had gasped in shock as his hand tightened around her neck, pressing and twisting until it gave with an audible _snap_. So far from that graceful woman who had stood, utterly poised amid the chaos of the Grand Stream, and laughed as everything that Alex had died within him.

He felt empty, now, utterly spent; all his anger and hatred had poured out of him, only moments ago, and now it was over. He was done.

The world was becoming brighter around him, through the turmoil of the battle taking place around Maestro Delphine's ship. Everything was coming apart. It was time.

"Yuris..."

A word spoken like a prayer. _Wait for me, Yuris_.

He didn't know where he found the energy to lift his head, to look at the sky one last time as the explosion began to sweep around him, ripping at his tired body; but for a moment, as everything washed out to white, as his consciousness slipped for the last time, he could have sworn the sky looked blue. His lips curved into a genuine smile, even as he slid away.

Everything was going to be alright.


End file.
